Strangers
by AuburnValkyrie
Summary: A young girl wakes up in the back of a cart with no memory of who she is or her past. She is taken to a small village to be executed where she meets up with a woman who knows who she is, but are separated when a dragon attacks the village. The young woman is forced to flee for her life and travel throughout Skyrim in search of any clues as to who she is why she has lost her memory.
1. Prologue

**Strangers**

 **Prologue**

She had the strangest sensation of being rocked. Though the only thing pleasant about it was that she was leaning up against something warm and somewhat fluffy. The hard surface she was seated on was uncomfortable and wasn't doing her bum any favors. With a soft groan, she opened her eyes. The light that greeted her caused her head to ache something awful and she hissed in pain. Attempting to raise her hands to her face, she immediately found that her wrists were bound tightly together with a rough length of rope.

What in the world was this?

Suddenly alert, the young woman jolted upright, eyes going to whatever she had been leaning against. She was not expecting a pair of intense blue-green eyes to be staring back at her. A man was seated next to her, his brows furrowed as he studied her intently. His hair was dirty blonde with braids on either side of his temples that kept most of it from hanging in his face. A length of dirty cloth was bound tight around his face, covering his mouth. It made her wonder why she wasn't gagged as well.

Another unwelcome flash of pain tore through her head, making her flinch and close her eyes as she raised her bound hands to her forehead.

"So, you're finally awake."

The voice was familiar, as were the words spoken but the headache she currently had was preventing her from focusing. So, she looked up at the speaker.

The man was smiling softly at her, his blue eyes looking tired, wisps of blonde hair hanging in them. He wore what looked to be a cuirass with blue clothe wound about it, his short chainmail sleeves showing well-toned arms. Was he a soldier or something?

"You were caught in that Imperial ambush like the rest of us, eh?" he asked simply. Not waiting for her to answer, he looked to the man seated next to him. "And that horse thief as well."

What? An ambush? She looked back and forth between the two men, trying to fight the pain in her head. What was going on? Where was she?

A quick glance around let her know that they were in a cart being pulled along by a sturdy looking draft horse. A man was seated at the head of the cart, his helmeted head facing forward as he let the horse plod along at its own pace. They were on a rough dirt road with trees on either side, and she could just make out mountains through the thick foliage.

"Damn, Stormcloaks," the named thief grumbled, bringing her attention back to him. He was glaring at the man seated next to him. "Skyrim was fine until you showed up. The Empire was nice and lazy. If it wasn't for you I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now."

Skyrim? Empire? Hammerfell? The names seemed familiar to her but she couldn't fathom why. Another wave of pain pulsed through her head, and she bit back a groan, going back to holding her head in her hands. She kept her eyes on the two men before her though, curious as to what else they would say.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, eh?" the blue-eyed man said with a halfhearted smile.

The thief huffed and shifted his gaze to her, but his look wasn't very nice. A soft grunt from the man next to her caught his attention and he looked to him.

"What's with him?"

"Hold your tongue, thief!" the blonde man snapped at him. "You're addressing Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King of Skyrim!"

The thief looked shocked at this statement. "Ulfric Stormcloak," he said in disbelief. "The leader of the rebellion? Then that means… Oh, gods. Where are they taking us?"

"I don't know," the blonde man said. "But Sovngarde awaits."

The young woman's head swam and she turned away from the men, staring down at the floor of the cart.

What the hell was going on here? Why did all the things they were saying sound so familiar? Who were these men? More importantly, why was she here with them?

A sudden terror gripped her when she realized she could not recall her name.

Who… who was she?


	2. Unbound

**Chapter One**

 **Unbound**

The ride in the cart was short as they soon reached a small village surrounded with sturdy looking stone walls and tall towers amidst the houses. But she paid it all little mind.

Instead she busied herself with trying to remember, well, anything. But it was all a blank. A big, dark blank that seemed to stretch for forever in her mind. The initial shock of not knowing her name had worn off, but the terror of not knowing was still in the back of her mind.

What had happened to make her forget? The discovery of a large bump on the back of her head was an indicator that she may have been hit. And judging by the pain still throbbing through her head, it had been a hard blow. Could it have been enough to cause her to lose her memory?

"Get those prisoners out of the carts!" a female voice suddenly shouted.

She looked up at that, noticing that they had stopped.

"Let's go," the blonde man across from her suddenly spoke, giving her a half-hearted smile. "Don't want to keep the gods waiting, now do we?"

A muted nod was all she gave him. How was she to respond to such a thing? It was obvious from his tone that he expected this to be their last day. A sudden shiver passed through her. It seemed such a cruel thing when she couldn't even remember her own name.

She couldn't help but notice how the blonde man looked her over as she stood. Obviously he was not expecting her to look the way she did, her clothes showing off her trim waist and the shape of her legs. She was aware that her hair hung down her back in a thick tangle, some of it falling over her shoulder as she shuffled along to the end of the cart. She would have felt flattered if the situation had not been so dire. Then again, she herself didn't even know what she looked like.

Instead she followed the other two men off the cart.

The man with the thick fur about his shoulders, Ulfric, turned back when his feet hit the ground. He held out his bound hands, steadying her as she got down out of the cart. Her hair swept forward over her shoulder in a thick wave, falling over his arm as he helped her. The scant sunlight glinted off it, making her stare at the dark auburn color that shifted to golden-blonde at the ends. Was that natural?

A soft grunt made her look up at the man who was a good head taller than herself. He was also looking at her hair, brows furrowed as if in deep thought. Then his eyes shifted to hers, the blue-green irises making her catch her breath.

"Kamama!"

The sudden outburst made her jump and pull her hands from Ulfric's much larger and warmer ones. She turned to her left, eyes landing on a girl around her height. The girl was gazing at her intently, tears shining in her blue eyes. Her hair was a bright shade of cerulean that faded to blonde at her roots, making her stand out amongst the rest of the people.

"Are you all right?" the girl asked, shuffling forward. Her hands were bound as well, but that didn't stop her from lightly touching her fingertips to her arm.

She stared long and hard at the blue haired girl, something telling her that she should know her. But she couldn't recall from where. "I'm sorry," she said haltingly, ignoring the seemingly constant pain in her head. "But… do I know you?"

The girl looked shocked, drawing her hands back. "What?" she asked. "How can you not know who I am?"

That was one of many the questions she wanted the answer to. She took in a shaky breath, brows furrowing as she racked her brain for something, anything that would shine some light on all that was happening. But nothing came.

Lightly shaking her head lest she increase her headache, she replied, "I-I don't know. I can't even remember-"

"Step forward when your name is called," someone suddenly called out, drawing the two females' attention to a tall man dressed in light leather armor. In one hand he held a ledger and in the other a thin piece of what looked to be charcoal. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."

The man who had helped her off the cart stepped forward, surprising her. He held a title? She was not sure what a 'jarl' was, but the title rang with such resilient authority it left one wanting to know more about him. At least for her it did.

"Kamama…"

She looked back to the girl beside her, noticing the worried gleam in her eyes.

"It's me. Maurice."

"Ralof of Riverwood."

The blonde man who had spoken to her before stepped forward, taking his place amongst the others already standing about in a rough circle.

"Maurice?" she repeated uncertainly. Why did that name seem so familiar?

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

"You can't do this!" the thief cried as he stepped forward. "I'm not with these Stormcloaks!"

"Shut up!" a woman dressed head to toe in military garb barked at him.

Suddenly the thief jumped at her, knocking her to the ground before he took off at a dead run. "You're not gonna kill me!" he yelled in desperation.

"Archers!" the armored woman shouted as she scrambled to her feet.

The twang of bowstrings could be heard and the thief fell to the ground, two arrows sticking out of his back.

"Anyone else feel like running?"

The two girls stared in disbelief at the scene, Brittany taking in a shuddering breath. They looked to one another again, blue eyes clashing with dark brown.

"Yes," Maurice affirmed, continuing their conversation. She nodded her head somewhat as if to reassure herself. "My name is Maurice." Her cerulean hair shifted somewhat, partially covering one of her eyes. She pushed it back furiously, showing that the side of her head was shaved. "We're… we're friends. Best friends. Have been for a while. How can you not remember that?"

Was that true? They were friends? Why couldn't she remember then?

"And my name is… It's… Kamama?"

"Yes!"

The desperation in the reply made her draw back somewhat.

"You! Standing next to the girl with blue hair!"

She looked back to the man with the ledger, his gazed focused on her.

"Step forward," he said.

With one last look at Maurice, she stepped towards him, stopping just a few feet from the man.

"Who are you?" he asked gently, earning a frown from the armored woman next to him.

"Don't go acting soft just because she's a woman, Hadvar," the woman growled. "She's a criminal, remember?

"A criminal?" Kamama found herself saying indignantly. "On what grounds? Because, honestly, I don't remember anything before waking up in that cart."

The man, Hadvar, looked genuinely surprised by her statement, but the woman snorted.

"As if," the woman went on. "Don't think by playing at amnesia that you'll get off easy. You were caught alongside the Stormcloaks. Guilty by association."

"Association?" Annoyance flared up in her chest, but Kamama did her best to push it down. "Since when is that a valid justification for imprisoning someone? For throwing them on a cart with others to go to an execution?"

She remembered when they first entered the small village, how the thief had lamented his situation, praying to the gods to save him. And the blonde man, Ralof, his embittered utterance of it being 'the end of the line.'

"Enough!" the military woman barked. "Hadvar! Mark her name and send her off!"

Hadvar sighed deeply. "Yes, captain." His dark eyes focused on Kamama once more. "Your name, prisoner?" he said in a deadpan tone.

She almost had half a mind to tell him off, that she wouldn't give her name to someone who obviously saw that she wasn't a part of whatever the Stormcloaks were doing. But after staring at him for a few moments and seeing the genuine regret there, she relented.

"I… I think it's… Kamama."

His eyes immediately went to his list whilst the captain huffed and crossed her arms.

"So you claim you can't remember anything and yet you still give us a name."

"Only because I told her it!"

Maurice had stalked up then, standing next to Kamama and glaring defiantly at the armored woman. The captain's hand immediately went to the sword at her hip.

"And my name is Maurice," the cerulean haired girl added, glancing at Hadvar. "Though I don't know why it should even matter."

"Watch your tongue, prisoner!" the captain snarled. "Another word and you'll be the first to lose your head!"

"Captain," Hadvar interrupted, eyes shifting from the ledger, to Karessa and then to the military woman. "They're not on the list. What do we do?"

"Forget the list!" she snapped. "They both go to the block!"

"Why you-"

Kamama put out her bound hands, stopping Maurice from going after the woman. "Leave her be. She's obviously either on a power trip or it's that time of the month. Well, maybe both."

Maurice sniggered at that, but still glared at the woman heatedly. She followed after Kamama as they made their way to the other prisoners standing in a rough circle around the base of a tower. Situated in front of it were a few soldiers, a woman in yellow robes, and what was obviously their executioner with his axe at the ready.

"Ulfric Stormcloak."

The two women looked to the man who had spoken, his military garb finer than the rest. His age was apparent what with his short cropped grey hair and the subtle age lines on his face. He stood facing the man with the gag about his mouth, a condescending frown on his lips.

"There are some here in Helgen who call you a hero," the man went on, crossing his arms over his armored chest. "But a hero wouldn't use a power such as the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

"What?" Maurice breathed next to her.

Ulfric made a sound of indignation, shifting slightly where he stood.

"You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!"

A sudden sound echoed from afar, but it was enough to make many look about in confusion.

"What was that?" one of the soldiers asked.

"Nothing," the man who was obviously in charge replied, though his eyes still scanned the skies. "Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius!" the female captain saluted and turned towards the yellow clad woman. "Read them their last rites."

The robed woman nodded, stepping forward with her arms outstretched. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines-"

"For the love of Talos, shut up already!" one of the Stormcloak soldiers barked as he stepped forward. "Let's get this over with! I haven't got all morning!"

"As you wish," the woman huffed, clearly affronted by his interruption.

Kamama smiled at the display, respect for the man facing his death so fearlessly swelling up in her breast.

The Stormcloak now stood at the block, a satisfied smile on his face as he looked around at his captors. "My ancestors are smiling down on me," he said defiantly as he knelt, resting his head on the chopping block. "Can you Imperials say the same?"

Maurice looked away as the headsman let his axe fall, but Kamama kept her eyes forward, watching as the man's head was cut from his body. A bright gush of blood washed over the wooden block, staining it and the dirt around it.

"You Imperial bastards!" a woman cried.

"Justice!" yelled a man.

"As fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof lamented proudly from his spot next to the two women.

Kamama turned her head towards him, but her eyes immediately locked onto Ulfric's who was staring at her. His intense gaze held her and it seemed as if he wanted to say something, but what that could be she couldn't possibly fathom. Why would he be looking at her? Maybe it was just a coincidence, the both of them looking to Ralof at the same time and their eyes meeting.

"Next prisoner!" the captain yelled. Her gaze fell on Kamama and she pointed at her. "That one! The woman who claims to have amnesia!"

The sound from before came again, sounding more like a roar and closer this time.

"There it is again," Hadvar breathed, his eyes searching the skies.

"I said next prisoner!" the captain growled.

"We didn't do anything!" Maurice suddenly shouted, taking a step forward. "This isn't fair! And you know it!"

The captain drew her sword. "Shut up!"

"Easy there, Maurice," Kamama found herself saying as she slowly tore her gaze away from the Jarl of Windhelm.

"But Kamama-"

She smiled at the girl, catching her off guard. "It's all right," she said lightly. "Besides, life isn't always fair. Maybe it's for the best what with me not remembering anything." She took a few steps forward. Then she laughed lightly, though her eyes began to burn with tears. "Thanks for at least giving me back my name… and for telling me that we're… friends."

"Kamama…"

Silently she walked up to the block, eyes skimming over the decapitated Stormcloak they had carelessly pushed off to the side. She felt the female captain push at her shoulder, forcing her to her knees before planting a foot in her back. A soft grunt escaped her lips when her cheek forcefully met the chopping block, still slightly warm from the fresh blood on it.

Was it really a blessing that she couldn't remember anything? What if she had a family somewhere, loved ones who were wondering where she was and if she was all right?

She could hear a sound, like a soft sob, from where Maurice and the other prisoners stood, but her face was turned towards the stone tower and the man standing there.

Her heart began to beat wildly as she watched the headsman ready his axe. He seemed almost eager to carry on with his task, a twisted smile on his lips which was all she could see due to the mask he wore.

And then she saw it.

"What in Oblivion is that?!"

Kamama's mouth opened in awe and horror as she watched the pitch-black creature swoop down on the village. It landed heavily on top of the tower, the stone structure shuddering under its weight and making the ground shake. The headsman lost his balance, dropping his axe as he fell to the ground. He looked over his shoulder and balked at the sight of the creature, scrambling to his feet before running away.

"Dragon!" a woman screamed over the shouts of the Imperials and the panicked cries of the villagers.

It suddenly opened its maw, razor sharp teeth revealed as it let out a terrible shout. The skies dimmed, tinged with red as fire began to rain down on the village.

Kamama stayed where she was, slowly lifting her head from the block, gazing wide eyed at the dragon perched atop the tower. It seemed to glare back at her, its red eyes glowing with unchecked malice. Once again its jaws opened and another shout emitted from it, and Kamama took in a breath before it hit her full force, knocking her back.

The back of her skull hit the ground, causing her head to burst with renewed pain and dizziness, and she couldn't keep the agonized cry from leaving her lips. Images swam in her vision, bizarre things that she felt were familiar but she couldn't place them. She thought she saw Maurice with her cerulean hair and blue eyes standing behind what looked like a counter of sorts, but the pain kept her from focusing.

Hands were suddenly on her, gripping her arms and hauling her to her feet.

"Come on!" the person shouted, unaware of the effect his loud voice had on her pain filled head. "This is our chance! Let's go!"

She allowed the man to pull her forward, her steps hurried and uncertain. All around them were screams and shouts, the dragon roaring overhead as they made their way through the village.

"Get inside!"

She was roughly pushed, careening forward into what she assumed to be a table. The pain of her hips hitting the wood brought her out of her throbbing head, and she did her best to shake off the whirlwind of images.

"By the Nine!" she heard someone say breathlessly. "Was that really a dragon? Like in the old legends?"

"Legends don't burn down villages."

A chill went up her spine at the sound of the second voice, and Kamama looked over her shoulder. Ulfric was standing beside the now barred door, his hands unbound, and the gag gone from his mouth, showing his strong features and the well-trimmed beard he possessed. His eyes shifted to her when he noticed her staring, and that same intense look from before came back, his brows furrowing slightly.

A loud roar echoed outside, the stone structure around them trembling.

"We need to move now!" Ulfric suddenly yelled.

"This way!" Ralof called to her and she stared at him indignantly.

She took a few steps toward him though, lifting her still bound wrists. "Could you cut me loose first?" she asked. "It would be so much easier to run for my life if I wasn't still–aie!"

The structure shook once again, Ralof catching her arm when she stumbled forward.

"Nevermind. Let's go."


	3. Good Friends Are Hard To Come By

**Chapter Two**

 **Good Friends are Hard to Come By**

"Wait!"

Ralof suddenly took hold of her wrist, pulling her back and into his chest. She went still at the sudden contact, not sure what to do with herself. But then she heard it.

A roar sounded overhead followed by the flapping of wings, and the two of them hunkered down near some brush. Both looked to the skies, the pitch-black form of the dragon soaring over them.

Kamama took in an involuntary breath, her mind going back to when she had last come face to face with that horrible creature. It had landed right in front of her when she had been running through the burning village, the young woman trying to make her way into the fortified keep. Once more it had stared at her, its demonic red eyes boring into her very soul it seemed.

Then it had spoken, its voice rumbling in some language she could not comprehend before it opened its mouth wide to issue forth a gout of flame.

Thank goodness Ralof had been nearby to grab her and pull her into the keep before she was burnt to a cinder.

A sudden sigh of relief came from the man she was still pressed up against. "I think it's gone for good now," Ralof breathed right next to her ear, unaware of the effect he was having on the smaller woman.

Kamama did her best not to think of how warm his body was next to her. She could smell him, his musky scent all around her and it was making her very warm and fuzzy on the inside. The natural smell of a man was always a weakness of hers. Though how she knew that due to her lack of memory was beyond her.

But Ralof was definitely all male.

Quickly she pulled herself away from him, mindful not to put pressure on her throbbing ankle.

"Are you all right?" Ralof asked, noticing her discomfort. "It hasn't gotten worse, has it?"

"No, not really," she replied. She shot him a hard look. "Though in retrospect, I can honestly say that this–" she motioned to her ankle "–is all your fault."

He looked perplexed by her statement, blue eyes wide. "M-my fault?"

"Yes!" Kamama found herself almost shouting. "It happened when you insisted on me jumping from that tower and through the roof of that burning building! I ended up twisting it somehow! I told you to cut my hands loose but noooo! I had to jump from a building and then hobble through a burning village with a dragon raging all throughout it! With my hands still bound!"

"Ah…"

The man seemed at a loss for what to say, his brows furrowed and mouth slightly open.

Kamama immediately felt bad for yelling at him, shoulders dropping slightly as she turned away. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't mean to go off on you like that. It's just…"

"It's all right."

She looked back at him, seeing a slight but apologetic smile on his face.

"There was a lot going on, and I guess I wasn't thinking straight," he explained. He bowed his head to her, looking at the ground. "I'm sorry for what happened."

A heavy sigh fell from her lips, and she smiled at him. "Don't worry about it. At least we made it out alive, eh?"

A smile was on his face when he looked back up. "Yeah."

"So, what now?"

He shrugged at that. "Well, Riverwood isn't too far from here." He seemed to perk up at his own words. "It's actually where I was born and grew up. My sister, Gerdur, runs the mill there. I'm sure she'll help us out."

Fancy that. They just so happen to be near his hometown.

Kamama's smile widened. "All righty then. Shall we get a move on?"

"Absolutely. Here." He came close to her, offering his arm for her to lean on. "I'd ask if you'd be all right with me carrying you, but–"

"But that'd be too much," Kamama cut him off. "We're both tired. Besides, I don't think it's broken so a little pressure here and there won't cause any lasting damage."

He nodded at that but slung one of her arms over his shoulder, his own arm going around her waist for added support. "Let's get going then."

They started off down the steep hill, making their way through brush and such until a dirt road came into view. The going was a bit easier after that, but Kamama still let out a soft grunt of discomfort every once in a while when she applied too much pressure on her foot. They were silent as they walked, Ralof keeping an eye out for anything that might suddenly come up on them.

At one point Ralof let her go when a chorus of howls resounded through the air, the soldier drawing his bow and taking down a couple of wolves that tried to ambush them. Kamama hung back, watching as he cautiously looked them over to make sure they were dead. Then he came back to her, resuming his previous role as her living crutch.

"Ya know," Kamama said after a few minutes of silence. "I could walk on my own if I had a good solid branch to lean on."

"Aye," he replied. "But let's not waste time trying to find one. Better to get to Riverwood as soon as possible." He looked to the horizon as he said that, taking in the sun slowly making its way down towards the mountains in the distance.

She would have sighed in exasperation, but held it back. The last thing she wanted to do was offend him with her sudden need to be independent. Still, she didn't like being treated like a cripple, and the differences in their heights was somewhat annoying. She was practically hanging off his shoulder!

They walked in silence once more, Kamama letting her eyes stray around, taking in the surroundings. The land was wild with trees and brush of all sorts, the terrain itself rocky and uneven. There were mountains everywhere it seemed, some close while others were mere outlines in the distance. It was beautiful to look at, and Kamama found herself smiling slightly. It was a welcome change from the chaos that had been Helgen.

An involuntary shudder passed through her at the thought of her near execution. She was almost thankful for the dragon's appearance though it too had nearly ended her life. Again she thought of those intense red eyes glaring at her. The stare had seemed almost like a challenge, as if the beast knew who she was.

"Are you all right?" Ralof suddenly asked.

She didn't immediately answer him, her mind trying to come up with some reason why the dragon would look at her in such a way. But then she sighed, hanging her head slightly.

"I don't know," she admitted.

Ralof shifted his hold on her slightly, obviously uncomfortable with her answer.

"Is it true?" he asked gently, as if the subject would upset her more. "That Imperial said that you… that you have amnesia?"

Ah. She had wondered if he would bring that up. Another heavy sigh left her lips, and she raised her head, gazing up into the slowly darkening sky.

"Honestly, I don't remember anything before waking up in the cart with you."

The man drew in a deep breath. But he remained silent as if thinking over her words. Then, "When the Imperials ambushed us, I was ready to die fighting, but then Jarl Ulfric commanded us to stop and surrender. So, we did. And then they tied us all up and brought us to the carts. You and that girl were already there, but they had you in separate carts. You were already passed out in the back of one of them."

"Hm." She frowned slightly. Then how did she end up waking up leaning on the man's shoulder?

"You were laid out on the one of the benches," Ralof continued. "You looked uncomfortable the way you were, feet resting on the floor and the rest of your body laid out on the seat. So, the Jarl moved you when he sat down, leaning you against himself."

So that was how she came to be sitting up. The thought of the Jarl doing such a thing seemed at odds with his personality. Then again, she didn't really know him so…

"I hope I can thank him someday for such a small mercy," she found herself saying softly.

"Perhaps one day you can," Ralof replied. There was a hint of hopefulness in his voice that didn't go unnoticed by her. "You've seen the true face of the Empire today. How they just carted us off to Helgen for execution without a proper trial. You should head to Windhelm and join the fight to free Skyrim from their unjust ways."

Skyrim? She had heard that General – Tullius was his name? – use that word before. Was that the name of the country they were in? A pit seemed to open up inside of her, that same feeling from before where all these names and people seemed familiar to her but… she couldn't remember why. She thought of Maurice again and wondered if the girl had made it out of Helgen safe.

"Ralof," she suddenly spoke, mindful of his hand twitching where it held her waist. "I… Well, it's difficult for me to ask this, but…" She turned her head, looking up at him. He returned her gaze, his blue eyes questioning. "Could you… tell me what's going on? And… what this place is?"

Her face was burning as were her eyes, and she turned her face away lest he see the tears that threatened to fall. It was uncomfortable for her to ask a complete stranger such a thing. But she had no one else to turn to.

"I'd be more than happy to tell you all about Skyrim," Ralof said softly. He then let out a soft chuckle. "There's no need to be shy about it. Not that I've ever dealt with someone with memory loss before, but still. Where would you like me to begin?"

Kamama smiled at that, a single tear running down her cheek. She wiped it away and looked back at the Stormcloak soldier. "How about starting with Skyrim itself?"

"Absolutely."

And so they walked on, Kamama listening attentively as Ralof began to tell her all he knew about Skyrim and how it came to be. He told of a man named Ysgramor and his Five Hundred Companions who came from Atmora, the ancient motherland of men. He told of the mighty Talos who conquered all of Tamriel and created the Empire. He told of Cyrodil, the seat of Talos's mighty Empire and the other provinces connected to it. He went into detail about all the numerous races of Nirn.

The sun had begun to sink below the farthest mountain in the distance, the sky steadily growing darker and darker when they came around a bend in the road. Ralof stopped talking and let out a deep sigh.

"You see that ruins up there?" he suddenly asked, pointing off into the distance.

Kamama looked in the direction he pointed, gaze falling on a high mountain. Close to its summit she could just make out what looked to be structures covered in thick snow.

"Bleak Falls Barrow," Ralof went on. "I never could understand how my sister could stand living in the shadow of that place."

"What?"

Ralof grinned at her questioning look. "We're almost to Riverwood now," he said. "Just a little further and – there!"

They rounded a bend and in the distance Kamama could make out a village. Her heart leapt into her throat at the sight.

"Come on then!" Ralof said excitedly. "My sister should be finishing up things at the mill for the day."

They hurried along now, Kamama doing her best not to show that Ralof's quickened pace was causing her ankle more discomfort. She imagined the man hadn't seen his hometown in a long time, and she didn't want to put a damper on his enthusiasm by asking him to slow down. Soon they reached the village, a single guard eyeing them as they passed beneath the archway built into the wall that he stood atop.

"This is Riverwood. My hometown."

The contentment in his words solidified Kamama's thoughts that he hadn't been home in a while. He continued to help her along, taking a sharp turn left. They made their way across a wooden bridge that passed over a small rivulet from the river running alongside the village.

"Ralof?"

They stopped abruptly at the sound of the voice, and Kamama almost gasped at the man standing before them. Or more accurately, the elf.

He was tall and lithe, his tawny skin setting off his blonde hair which was pulled up into a ponytail at the back of his head, showing off his pointed ears. His dark eyes were wide in disbelief as he stared at them.

What race of elf was he? Kamama thought hard about everything Ralof had told her, and hesitantly came to the conclusion that he was a – what was it? Bosmer? A wood elf?

"Hello, there, Faendal," Ralof greeted cheerily. "Still helping out Gerdur with the mill, yes? It's good to see you again."

"Ah, well," the elf began, looking at Kamama briefly before settling his gaze back on the Nord. "Yes. I still work for your sister. And it's good to see you again as well."

"Is Gerdur still at the mill?" asked Ralof. "I wish to speak with her."

"Of course," Faendal replied. He glanced at the mill just off to the side of the village before addressing Ralof. "But, um, she's probably already back at her house by now. Finished up early what with the news and all…"

Both Kamama and Ralof went still at his words.

"What news?" Ralof inquired cautiously.

Faendal shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the wood in his arms. "There've been rumors that… the Imperials captured Ulfric Stormcloak."

Kamama balked slightly at that, her arm falling from Ralof's shoulder to rest on his upper arm. "Wow. Word travels fast, doesn't it?"

The elf's dark eyes focused on her, causing Kamama to shift uncomfortably. She wasn't used to such a gaze. Hell. Just seeing the elf had sent her into a state of semi-shock. A part of her had been skeptical when Ralof told her of the numerous elven races. But to actually see and talk to one…

"Who is your friend, Ralof?" Faendal suddenly asked. "A fellow soldier?"

What? Oh, yeah. She was still wearing the Stormcloak cuirass.

"No," Ralof answered quickly. "She was caught up in the mess at Helgen, and when we made our escape I had her put on something that would give her a bit more protection if we ran into trouble on the way here."

"Oh." Faendal was still looking at her though when he asked his next question. "What do you mean by 'mess at Helgen?'"

Kamama and Ralof looked to one another at that. The Stormcloak seemed uncertain if he should tell the elf about what had happened. But why should he be? Wouldn't it be best to warn everyone that a dragon had destroyed the village? Especially when Ralof had told her such creatures were supposedly only a myth?

"A dragon attacked the village." She couldn't help the words tumbling out of her mouth, and Ralof took in a deep breath.

"What?!"

Tearing her gaze from the man's blue eyes, Kamama leveled the Bosmer with a steely glare. "It's true," she affirmed. "It swooped down out of nowhere and proceeded to lay waste to the place. We barely got out of there with our lives."

"A-a dragon?" The elf's eyes immediately went to the skies.

"Which is why I need to speak to my sister," Ralof continued. "We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun. Last I saw the dragon was heading in that direction."

"O-of course!" Faendal sputtered. "Like I said, she should be at her home."

"Right," Kamama nodded. She pulled herself away from Ralof, earning a confused look from the man. "Go to her," she said firmly. "I'll catch up. Which house is your sister's?"

"It's the one with a fence around the front and a single cow," Ralof answered automatically. But then he shook his head. "I'm not going to leave you to hobble your way there."

"Oh, please," Kamama sighed in exasperation, resting her hands on her hips. "Time is of the essence, and you'll get there faster by yourself than with me hanging off your shoulder. Besides, we made it here to Riverwood so I don't think I'm in any danger of getting caught unawares by wolves or anything."

Ralof stared hard at her for a moment, obviously thinking over her words. He still seemed reluctant though, and began to open his mouth to speak. But then Faendal suddenly piped up.

"I could help her get there," the elf offered timidly. He shifted nervously once again when they both looked at him. "Like she said, time is of the essence. Hurry and go tell Gerdur what has happened, and I'll make sure your friend gets there safe and sound."

"But–"

"Get going, man!" Kamama huffed, waving her hand in a shooing motion. "You've already wasted enough time as it is."

At that Ralof shut his mouth. He gave a deep sigh before turning and backtracking across the bridge. "You had better be right behind me," he called back before hurriedly making his way down the road that ran through the village.

"He's worse than a mother hen," Kamama breathed when he was out of sight.

"Ralof has always been that way. Even as a child."

She looked back at the elf, watching as he set the blocks of wood in his arms on the bridge. When he stood upright his dark eyes were studying her intently, shifting down to her ankle which she was being mindful not to put too much pressure on.

"Shall we get going then?" he asked though he seemed a bit timid in approaching her.

Kamama couldn't help but smile at his shyness. "Ya know," she began, crossing her arms beneath her bosom. "If ya find me a sturdy stick I can walk on my own."

That caused the Bosmer to let out a laugh, the light timbre of his voice making a pleasant sound. "I could do that," he chuckled. "But then again, Ralof expects you to be right behind him, and I think it would take too much time trying to find a suitable crutch."

It was Kamama's turn to laugh, and she did it unrestrained, enjoying the feeling it gave her. "Wow. Ralof said the same thing when we started heading this way."

"Great minds think alike, I guess."

They both laughed at that, and Faendal seemed over his hesitance to get close to her. Like before, Kamama found her arm slung over the taller male's shoulder, once again feeling like a ragdoll hanging off of a giant. Though this giant was much slimmer.

The going was slow since Kamama finally realized just how sore her ankle was, and would wince and hiss every few steps. Faendal even offered to carry her on his back after a few moments of her struggle, but she quickly shot that down.

"I refuse to be forced into the role of a sack of potatoes," Kamama mumbled grumpily, her eyes cast downward to her traitorous appendage.

Eventually they made it to Ralof's sister's home, the lone cow in the yard chewing its cud lazily as it watched the pair. There was a slight scuffle at the door of the building, and Ralof stepped out. A woman roughly the same height as him with identical blonde hair and blue eyes stepped up behind him. As soon as the woman caught sight of Kamama, she swept forward quickly.

"Aye! If I had known she was that badly hurt I would have stepped outside the house a lot sooner!" the woman exclaimed as she wound Kamama's free arm around her shoulders.

If she had cared to look, Kamama would have seen the look of relief on Faendal's face at the assistance in helping her along. Instead she was preoccupied with what was obviously Ralof's sister.

"Please," Kamama began haltingly, her face heating up. "I really don't need that much concern over my–"

"Nonsense!" Gerdur snapped at her. "An injury is an injury. No matter how small you think it is. Ralof! Pick one of the beds and get it comfortable for our guest. She will not be up and about whilst she heals."

Ralof stood there for a moment, giving his sister an almost bewildered look. She returned his look with a withering glare.

"Did the dragon's roaring deafen you, brother?" she all but growled.

The man seemed to finally come to his senses, and he quickly retreated back into the house. And almost tripped over his own feet.

"Still needs to be led around by his hand," Gerdur sighed though there was a touch of fondness to her words.

Kamama smiled at that, deciding that she liked the woman.

The inside of the house was warm and cozy, and Gerdur and Faendal helped her to one of the beds tucked into a far corner. The furs laid on top of it were a bit coarse, but Kamama sank into them gratefully. A soft sigh of relief left her mouth when she was able to lift her foot up off the ground.

Gerdur immediately set to work, carefully removing her boots and examining her swollen ankle. Kamama almost cried out in alarm when she saw the dark blue and purple bruises that wound around it. But the woman shushed her and proceeded to poke and prod at it. Satisfied that there was no real damage, Gerdur then proceeded to usher all the men out of the house, setting her son to heat up water so that Karessa could bathe. Then she proceeded to shoo the boy outside as well.

It was a little embarrassing at first when Gerdur helped her undress, but Kamama soon realized just how tired she was when a yawn came from her mouth instead of the protest she had meant to deliver. Soon she was cleaned up and dressed in warm clothes that were much more comfortable than the cuirass she had been wearing. Her ankle was wrapped securely in soft linen strips. Whilst washing her hair Gerdur had discovered blood matted in her locks and a nasty gash on the back of her scalp which she cleaned and bound with a length of clothe around Kamama's head.

Finally finished, Gerdur allowed the men to come back into the house though Faendal was absent. In his place was another man whom Gerdur introduced as her husband, Hod. The introductions seemed a bit rushed and Kamama soon found herself forced to eat a large bowl of steaming stew. Which really wasn't all that bad once the smell of it hit her nose, though she did burn her tongue a little when she tried to eat it too fast.

And all this occurred with Kamama scarcely moving a few feet from the bed. Which Gerdur promptly tucked her into once she was done eating.

"Now, get yourself some rest," the woman said firmly as she placed another thick fur on top of Kamama's already covered legs. "From what Ralof told me, you've had quite a rough time since waking up in that cart back in Helgen."

A soft frown touched Kamama's lips. She wondered how much Ralof had told his sister. Did she know about her amnesia?

Another yawn interrupted her thoughts.

She would think about it tomorrow. Right now her body was so heavy and the warmth of the covers was too soothing. And so she nodded off.

She woke a few times due to the dull ache at the back of her skull, her head buzzing with images of things she couldn't make sense of. A few times she heard hushed voices on the other side of the small house, but she couldn't make sense of what they were saying. A part of her wanted to stay awake and listen, but her tired body would not allow her to.

"Kamama?"

A soft frown pulled at her lips when she heard her name, but she opted to ignore it. She shifted slightly, snuggling further beneath the blankets. A heavy sigh reached her ears and there was a shuffling noise near her bed.

"I'm glad you decided to come with me."

Kamama opened her eyes at the soft words. The house was dark, the only light coming from the fireplace situated in the wall her bed was parallel to. She could just make out a form lying on the floor just in front of her bed, and so she leaned forward a bit until she could see over the edge. Ralof was on his back, hands resting beneath his head as he stared at the ceiling. The light from the fire glinted off his eyes every so often, and then he turned his head towards her. They stared at one another in silence for a few moments as if trying to read the other's mind.

Kamama could feel heat building up in her cheeks as they continued to keep their gazes locked. Should she say something? What could she say without sounding like a fool? She was thankful that Ralof had helped her escape Helgen. Hell. He had saved her from the dragon itself! Why would he be glad that she had deigned to travel with him?

A few moments later and Ralof sighed heavily once more. He turned onto his side, back facing her. A pit seemed to open up in her chest at the sight. The moment was gone. She had ruined it with her indecisiveness. Somewhere in the back of her head a voice seemed to chastise her, as if she was always doing such a thing.

A sudden yawn stretched her mouth wide open, a testament of how tired she still was. But she didn't move from the edge of the bed. She continued to stare at Ralof's back, eyes beginning to grow heavy, wishing he would turn back over and look at her once more. But he didn't.

But that was all right. Kamama wouldn't pressure him. Instead, she pulled her pillow more securely under her, mindful of the bandage Gerdur had put around her head. Another yawn tore its way from her and she put a hand over her mouth despite no one being able to see her.

"I'm glad I met you, Ralof," she murmured as her eyes closed, missing how the man's body tensed at her words. "And thank you for saving my life."


End file.
